A/N: Ok, so as it's a Nazi AU, some of you may wonder how we can have a main character with the last name 'Chapman'. Well, as it turns out, both the compound Chapman and its first element 'Chap' have origins in all the main Germanic languages. So there we are.
As for Alex, well all will be revealed about her name later on in the story.
Enjoy.
The paperwork had been prepared quickly, efficiently and with a minimum amount of fuss. Alex chuckles at the irony of how very German the whole process seemed. Although she doubts the Americans would see the funny side somehow.
She's around five miles outside Munich she's guessing, although the driver isn't exactly forthcoming with details, merely grunting when she estimates their location. Once they arrive at their destination, he wordlessly hands her a manila envelope. It contains keys to the barrack type building that they've pulled up in front of. Nothing else. And the expression on her face must betray the confusion, because he sighs, in what Alex guesses is a conciliatory gesture and instructs her to let herself in and await further instruction. She swears he's about to smile, but then he stops himself, right on the cusp, thinking better of it, and pulling his small, slightly feminine looking mouth, into a thin lipped grimace instead. The gesture sets Alex further on edge.
She exits the vehicle and before she has the chance to change her mind, the black Mercedes is already screeching off into the distance, spraying shrapnel like gravel in its wake. And she's left looking up at the building she's been dumped in front of, Nazi flag fluttering lightly in the winter breeze, wondering if anywhere can feel less like home than this.
…
The building reminds Alex of her elementary school, squat and imposing, although she doubts the inside is going to be decorated by colourful finger-paintings. Half the windows are boarded up and although she manages to unlock the front door easily enough, the heavy shoulder barge she has to give it, indicates that it hasn't been used for some time. And that's when the cold sweats begin.
What purpose would they have to bring her here, in a part derelict, ex army barracks on the outskirts of the Bavarian capital? Defector her mind hisses. She squeezes her eyes shut, trying to rid herself of the thought, instead busying herself with her new surroundings, trying to choke back the smell of damp and the sensation of it settling on her face and clothes; an unwanted second skin.
She dumps her duffel bag on the bare mattress of a bottom bunk, the first one in a row of twenty that run parallel, on either side of the building. She gingerly takes a seat on the edge of it, as if she's afraid someone will pop up out of nowhere, like an uninvited jack in the box and then she's suddenly aware of the cold and how in her haste to pack, she's left her thick winter coat in New York City. 'Fucking Bavarian winters' she mumbles to herself.
Speaking English has become second nature to her now and more often than not, she finds herself thinking in the learnt language too, favouring it over her mother tongue. She's pretty sure the Fuhrer would not approve. But she doubts he's gonna be inviting her to tea any time soon, so she doesn't give it too much further thought.
She shifts on the bed uncomfortably, feeling a sharp stabbing pain in the top of her right thigh. When she stands up to inspect, she realises that the source is a rusty, slightly uncoiled spring, 'son of a bitch' she says, rubbing the sore area.
She sits back down again, in a different spot, her body almost sighing in relief, the duration of the journey, seemingly catching up with her, all at once. She should sleep she thinks, but the bed isn't appealing and she has too many thoughts rattling around her mind to truly rest. So instead, she removes a scarf from her bag, wraps it tightly around herself and her flimsy jacket and leans back against the wall, remembering the last letter she received from her mother. Blue air mail paper, clearly tampered with, emblazoned with the three words that Alex needed to see most: Ich bin sicher.
I am safe.
...
She can smell cigarettes and Aniseed. Aniseed Liquor, as she's brusquely woken up by someone's hand shaking her shoulder. 'Auf deinen Füßen!' is what she thinks they are requesting, but a hazy cloud of sleep is still sitting heavily over her, so the words drift on the air, like the first snowflakes of winter. My darling Munich she thinks, smiling to herself.
'Auf deinen Füßen!' They repeat, firmer this time, not waiting for her co-operation as they drag her to her feet. She removes her glasses and rubs at her eyes. When she replaces them, she's face to face with two archetype SS soldiers.
'Paperwork' the slightly taller of the two demands as she scrabbles around in her bag to retrieve the documentation. He glances over it and then looks back up at her. Alex cannot fathom whether it's in confusion or suspicion, she's not entirely sure which is more dangerous in this situation.
She's told to follow them, so she does, tailing them to the back of the building, through a set of doors and down a corridor until they reach a small kitchen. It smells of stale milk and even with a chill in the air, blue bottles mill around a particular patch on the floor, by the rusty fridge. Alex, shudders to think what was once lying there: flesh…animal? Human?
'Vause' an unfamiliar voice says. It lacks warmth, friendliness or any discernible emotion.
'Senior Assault Unit Leader Chapman' he says gruffly. He doesn't offer his hand, barely meets her gaze. He's medium height, medium build, middle aged, nothing to set the world on fire, but Alex guesses he's been mixing in the right circles, attending the appropriate dinners and nodding at the correct prompts. In other words, ideal SS leadership material.
'Alex Vause' she replies, although she guesses her already knows her full name and just about every other important detail associated with her. She's trying to keep her voice as even as possible, although her eyes are flitting over the gun nestled in his holster. He must have caught her out because he grins.
'Nothing for you to concern yourself with' he says laughing. Alex notices it doesn't quite reach his eyes. 'You're far too important to us for that'.
She can't help but feel the words 'for now' should grace the end of the sentence, but she offers him a small smile in return nonetheless.
'Hungry?' he continues. Alex wants to tell him the churning in her stomach is definitely not hunger, that before she continues with any of this, agrees to anything more, she needs assurances about Diane, but if the last few years have taught her anything, it's that biding your time is more effective than knee jerk reactions. So she offers a non-committal shrug in response.
'Not a woman of many words eh? Makes a nice change I suppose, most of the women I know can't stop chattering on endlessly. At times, it makes me wish they had batteries that could be removed' he continues, much to the amusement of the two less senior officers, who immediately chuckle behind her.
Alex wonders if Unit Leader Chapman has always been such an asshole, or if he's learnt it over time. She's guessing the former, but doesn't necessarily rule out the latter. This regime can do strange things to people, turn your loving, friendly neighbor of twenty years into a snitch, have you hauled up in front of the firing squad for something innocuous. It's a dog eat dog existence for certain, except the animals are rabid and hungry for more. Ich bin sicher, she reminds herself and remains silent.
'Anyway, I insist, you must eat, we need you to keep your strength up. My place isn't far from here, i'm told the cook has prepared Wiener Schnitzel and I took a delivery of our finest German beer this morning. I assume America hasn't sullied your taste buds?'
'Maybe they were already sullied?' she replies in spite of herself, a small smile playing at the corners her lips, but she bites it back quickly and Chapman merely shakes his head in confusion.
She follows him out to the car and slides into the back, behind the awaiting driver. The two junior officers don't join them. It's warm and comfortable and how she wishes she could close her eyes and drift away, caught on a breeze like an autumnal leaf. But now her stomach is growling at the thought of the fried meat and she realises that she's much hungrier than she had let on.
The summer of 1936 is her last memory of eating Wiener Schnitzel. It was her Aunt's birthday. Her mother had cooked and they'd all got merry on cheap wine and danced giddily to Ella Fitzgerald (a black market purchase) until their calves burnt and their muscles ached and they landed in a heap on the floor, well and truly spent. They passed the rest of the evening sharing an Apfelstrudel, one fork between five of them, the icing sugar coating Diane's top lip until she finally realised what they were all laughing and pointing at, as she licked it off grumpily.
Memories, the only thing that have remained sacred during the state of emergency, the onset of war, and this, whatever this is. And now her fatigue is giving way to something else; bitterness, because her good, simple life was snatched away from her virtually overnight and suddenly, she finds herself irrationally angry at SS leader Chapman. Her hands balled into tight fists at her sides and the adrenalin racing through her is making her feel more alert than she's been since she landed back on German terrain.
Ich bin sicher, her mind repeats and she curses under her own breath at this predicament, knowing there is no real way out. Not just yet.
'You say something Vause?' Chapman asks.
'No' she lies, hunkering back down in her seat.
Patience.
…
She's been pulling slowly on her beer, keen not to become too inebriated, because she's still not entirely at ease.
SS leader Chapman's house is as expected for someone of such senior rank. Large, immaculately furnished and pristinely clean. The maid fusses around them when they arrive, bringing them drinks and snacks and shortly after, dinner is announced, but Chapman has not revealed the purpose of his meeting with Alex. He's keeping those cards, very close to his chest.
The Schnitzel is delicious and Alex isn't sure whether that's down to her hunger or the skill of the chef, but either way, she gratefully accepts a second portion. She's almost done when Mrs Chapman arrives. Her husband introduces them briefly, explains he is working on an important project with Alex. The word project makes Alex bristle involuntarily.
'Carol' she says, cold and flat, offering a perfectly manicured hand to Alex. She takes it. It's as icy as her stare. She pecks her husband on the cheek and excuses herself, she needs to try on some outfits for the cocktail party they are invited to this evening. Hilda and Josef's place, I told you last night darling, remember? You said it would be great to catch up, you haven't seen Josef in an age. But even speaking with her husband, her voice lacks warmth, like she's rehearsed the words, she's playing a part, one that she's not enjoying.
Chapman just nods and returns to his meal. 'See what I meant about the batteries?' He says, smirking, after a few minutes.
Alex doesn't have the heart to tell him that she doesn't think Carol Chapman ever had any.
She drains the remainder of her beer and excuses herself to the bathroom. It is, like everything else in the house, spacious and immaculately decorated, although Alex immediately assigns the choice of the gilded mirror over the sink to Carol Chapman: showy, but not tasteless. We aren't new money.
She splashes her face with cold water, fighting the fresh wave of tiredness that is creeping over her, although she can't be sure it isn't just a boozy fug. She snatches a towel up from a pile next to the sink and pats herself dry, so lost in thought about Chapman's next move, that she doesn't notice the young blonde woman she eventually goes crashing straight into, as she exits back into the hallway.
'Fuck' she mumbles, straightening herself out, her own eyes locking with a pair of vivid blue, 'I'm so sorry'.
The blonde shakes her head, as if to say it's ok, but her eyes fail to leave Alex's, almost as if they're incapable of doing so.
'Ah there you are' Chapman interrupts, 'I see you've met my daughter Piper, but anyhow, we have more pressing matters, there's a phone call for you from Munich…you need to come with me now, it's urgent'
And just like that, everything else, suddenly becomes white noise.
…
A/N: Many thanks to imissedyourpatronage, I'm pretty sure I've bored her endlessly about this for the last few days and her encouragement is always never ending. Cheers dude.